


Nights in White Satin

by quicksylver28



Series: Satin, Lace and Velvet [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Crossdressing Kink, Gloves, M/M, Stockings, pearls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 12:27:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8713951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksylver28/pseuds/quicksylver28
Summary: When Tony is four he likes to sit at his mother’s side as she gets ready to go out.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Unfurl Your Gown](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072735) by [theladyingrey42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theladyingrey42/pseuds/theladyingrey42). 



> I was just fantasizing about some Stony smut when this plot bunny jumped up and bit me. It would not let go until I sat down and wrote this. I've always wondered about human sexual development and how certain instances in our childhoods leave lasting impression and help to form who we are as adults. this is what i take away from watching Inside Out, old episodes of Law and Order: Criminal Intent and Criminal Minds.
> 
> I also went back and fixed any typos i could find. It's hard to write and edit on a tablet. I can't wait to get my home computer back.
> 
> Now with artwork!!!

 

When Tony is four he likes to sit at his mother’s side as she gets ready to go out. Most of the time he tries to emmulate his father, following him around the house when he is at home, digging his intellect and his curious fingers into how things were made, how things worked. And most of the time he was rebuffed for his efforts, ignored. It never stopped him from trying though.

But sometimes, when he was feeling like the child he looked like on the outside and wanted to put his always racing mind to rest, he would go and lean against his mother’s side as she sat at the piano or had brunch out by the pool. She was always soft and warm and smelled like the sweet white flowers that grew along the edge of the garden. She would smile down at him and wrap an arm around his small shoulder, hugging him into her side. She would call him her 'picolo' and he would press his nose into her clothes, breathing deeply.

His favourite time was when she was getting ready for a party. She would sit at her elaborate vanity, an ornately carved, white monstrosity that Howard forever griped about having commissioned and shipped from Italy as a first anniversary present. It had three large mirrors and crystal drawer pulls with intricate tassels on them.

Golden lights hung all around, illuminating the various delicate makeup containers and assorted beauty accoutrement that his mother had painstakingly collected over the years since she was a poor farm girl in rural Italy. Hand carved bone brush, comb and hand mirror set from her great grandmother. Dainty silver jewelry box, lined with red velvet and spilling over with diamonds Howard showered on her every time he stayed abroad for too long on business.

Her most beloved bauble is a long string of pearls that her grandfather had hand strung for her grand mother as a wedding present. Tony loved to hear his mother tell the story of how he dove into the ocean everyday for a hundred days straight to collect oysters, searching though shell after shell until he found enough shining white pearls for the necklace.

His mother would sit in her satin robe at the vanity doing her make up. Ink black eye liner, scarlet lip stain, a hint of rose blush on her flawless skin. She would hum a wordless tune as she worked, her sweet husky voice taking Tony to another place in his mind, the relentless thoughts that churn in his brain slowing down, the ever present tempest calming for just a little while.

She would direct Tony to one of the drawers, letting him pull out the delicately wrapped paper packet. They peel the paper away together to reveal white stockings. Sheer thigh highs with a lace trim and white satin bow. He would watch as she rolled them on, smoothing her hand over the thin material, clipping them to the lace and satin garter belt.

Next came the gloves, also white satin ones went that all the way past her elbow almost to her shoulder. She would wink at Tony, running her gloved fingers along his soft chubby cheek.

“My little cricket” she would hum happily, “ ... always chirping for me. Chirp chirp chirp.”

“Chirp chirp chirp” Tony giggled back.

She reached into the silver jewelry box and pulled out a deep blue velvet bag. Tony’s eyes widened as she pulled the long string of pearls from the pouch, draping it around her graceful neck in lovely loops. It’s usually this time that Jarvis would arrive to hustle Tony off to bed despite Tony's’s pleading that he wasn't sleepy. Sometimes, if Tony played his cards just right, Jarvis' heart would melt and he would let Tony sneak out unto the landing to watch as Maria and Howard made ready to leave in the foyer.

As if by magic, his mother would look up at where he was hiding and give him a wink and a smile, as if t were a secret between them and them alone. Then and only then would Tony let Jarvis bundle him off to bed without a peep.

By the time Tony is fourteen he is on break from boarding school and he’s doing his best to test out early so that he can enroll in MIT next year. The work load is stressful and his relationship with his father is worse than ever. He's’ just missed seeing his mother during break because his parent’s have decided to extend their trip to China and Howard doesn't see the point in spending a fortune to rush home just to see his only son and heir.

Tony spends the break with Jarvis, roaming the empty mansion hallways feeling lonely and depressed. He wanders into his mother’s dressing room and rambles over to her vanity, plopping down on the ivory cushioned and frilled pouf. He fiddles with her things, running his finger tips over the spindles of her brush, sniffing at her face powder.

He touches a finger to her lip stain, touching the scarlet to his lips until his mouth is a slash of red. He has his mother’s Mediterranean colouring so the colour looks good on him. Emboldened by his reflection, he plucks the ivory handled makeup brush from its holder and applies an even coat to his face like he’s seen his mother do so many times. A quick fumble of mascara makes his lashes look amazing and he grins at his reflection.

With some trepidation, he reaches for the silver jewelry box, taking out the velvet pouch with bated breath. The pearls are heavy in his hands and they way the beads glide against each other in his palm is exhilarating. The weight of them around his neck makes his heart pound, as if he can feel his mother’s hand at the back of his neck. A spritz of her perfume brings him right back to those nights as a child at her side getting ready. He looks at his reflection once more and can see her in the hazel of his eyes, the red of his lips.

Beautiful , he thinks, stunning.

He’s just taken a pair of her white satin gloves out of their wrapping when he hears Jarvis' voice calling his name. He startles, terrified of being caught like this, of having to explain. He’s certain that no one would understand. God forbid if his father found out… or worse his mother. He could just imagine how she would look at him differently if she knew what he’d been doing amongst her personal things.

He pulls off the pearls and hastily stuffs them back into the pouch, setting it back into the box as he scrambled to his feet. He ducks into the bathroom, grabbing a handful of tissue and wiping the tint from his face until it’s bare of all make up. It is only when he's heading back up to his room after dinner that evening that he discovers the pair of gloves he’d shoved into his pocket in his haste. It smells like his mother’s perfume and he rubs the soft material against his cheek with a sigh.

“chirp chirp chirp” he whispers to his empty room.

He’s sixteen and sighs into the pillow as Ty pulls out of him and rolls unto the bed with a slick pop and grunt, picking up his still burning cigarette from the ashtray on the night stand. Tony just lays there, basking in the afterglow as his lover smacks his ass with a grin and gets up to shower. Ty doesn't stay, Ty never stays unless he’s black out drunk or high and has to be poured unto a couch or into a bed. Or if he wants Tony to pay off his coke dealer when big daddy stone cancelled his credit cards again. By the time Tony stops feeling warm and gooey and starts feeling cold and sticky, Ty is long gone.

Tony peels himself off the sheets with a grimace and pads naked into the loft’s en suite bathroom. After a long hedonistic shower, he pads naked over to the kitchen and switches on the coffee maker, his mind already shaking off the post coitus haze and kicking into high gear. As he runs through mathematical equations and production specs in his head, he starts to hum that old familiar tune as he reaches under the bed and pulls out a large black hat box with a demure gold band. Setting the box on the bed, he carefully lifted the cover, pulling away the folded golden wrapping paper.

Reaching in, he pulls out the first package, a pair of white sheer thigh high stockings, lace trimmed with a small white satin bow. He’d spent a long time searching for these, even going so far as to investing in the dying company that manufactured them to keep them from going bankrupt. One things he’d learned well from his father was that money goes a long way in getting what you want.

He smooths his hands over his legs, clean shaven and smooth from his time in the shower. Next are the gloves, the white satin smooth all the way up to his biceps. These are also custom made from a little boutique place downtown with discretion and exceptional skill. The pearls are not his mother’s, they are too perfect, too manufactured. He had an order for a more genuine one on the way but had had to jump through a few hoops to hide the expensive purchase from his father’s accountants.

The necklace catches on his nipples and his breath stutters. He runs his fingertips across his cheek, down his neck and the length of the necklace. His finger tips lightly trail down his abdomen and skips to his stocking encased thighs. He moans as his thigh muscles bunch under the dainty lace.

Finally he plucks a pair of Giuseppe Zanotti white pumps out of the hat box and slips them on. He’s getting better at walking in them and goes to stand in front of the floor length mirror mounted on the door of his closet. He watches the way the pearls and white lace are stark against his olive skin.

He’s humming, drifting away in the look and the feel of his trimmings that he doesn't hear the door open until it's too late to hide his nakedness. Damn Ty for not locking the door on his way out. Damn Tony for not double checking. He cups his privates with his gloved hands, looking over his shoulder to where Rhodey stands frozen on the doorway, a pizza and a six pack of beer in his arms.

They stare silently at each other as Rhodey slowly pushes the door shut with his foot, reaching back clumsily to flip the lock.

“I must admit, this may just be the weirdest thing you’ve ever caught me doing… “ Tony grins sheepishly.

Tony is nineteen and is back at the mansion for the first time since the bottom fell out of his world. White cloth covers the furniture that Jarvis used to dust with a cherry little ditty and a warm smile. The fireplace in his father's study is silent and cold. The windows are boarded shut, a security measure that Obie had insisted on along with guard patrols and dogs. To protect Howard’s legacy, he tells Tony as he slings a heavy arm around his shoulders, to protect Tony’ future, he breathes his wet, cigar stink breath into Tony’s ear.

The sun peaks in his mother's room in thin streaks that set the dust mites flying. The vanity is dark and shadowed as he sits on the pouf. A fine layer of dust covers the hand carved brush and hand mirror set, the silver jewelry box. The velvet pouch is heavy in his hand and he can just see the glimmer of pearls through the open mouth of the bag. He gulps heavily and closes his burning eyes.

His finger tips smear scarlet stain over his lips and it looks like blood.

His breath stutters and the tears fall , hot and silent. He sinks to the floor, leaning against the vanity and let the heavy sobs burn his lungs, clutching the pearls to his chest until the sun down down beyond the boarded up windows.

Tony is forty five and finally home after a hard day of board meetings at SI. He signed every paper Pepper set in front of him and answered every email with minimal complaint until she took pity on him and granted his parole early for good behaviour. He waves off a poker game with the other Avengers in favour of a hot shower and some alone time. He needs to decompress.

He is in no danger of diminishing the tower’s hot water so his shower is long and hot as he can take. He takes his time shaving and moisturizing, slipping on a long satin robe that feels like heaven against his skin. He pads barefoot over to his dressing room, compressing a button to the back of the closet, revealing a keypad. An eight digit combination slides open a secret door and he steps into a well lit room, taking a seat at the large white custom vanity against one wall.

He runs his finger tips over the hand carved brush and hand mirror, the silver jewelry box. He hums a wordless tune as he brushes his hair back until his wild damp curls lay smooth. Inky black eye liner, soft face powder, scarlet lip stain against his neatly trimmed beard. A paper wrapped package holds the white sheer stockings with the lace trim and satin bow. The gloves are next, luxurious against his skin. A little perfume against his pulse points ad he smiles to himself, reaching for the silver box.

The pearls gleam in the light against his olive skin and dark chest hair. The cool beads catch against his nipples and he moans softly. He steps into the custom white heels and gracefully makes his way to the full mirror wall, running his gloved palms against his bare skin, is gloved arms, his stockinged legs.

He turns, admiring how the white lace looks just below his bare ass, how the white gloves looks against his back as he hugs himself. He makes his way over to the soft white chaise lounge opposite the mirror and lounges on it, crossing his legs and flipping idly through an old copy of scientific review magazine that he keeps in a side table with some vintage good housekeeping and Italian Vogue.

He’s just sliding down into the calm eye of the storm that is his thought process when the call to assemble comes over the comms. He kicks off the shoes, demanding a sit-rep from Jarvis. It’s a level five emergency, he doesn't even have time to change. He throws on a pair of boxers and has Jarvis bring the suit up to the private balcony just off his rooms. Within seconds he’s in the air, the voices of his team mates in his ear.

The battle is intense and no one comes out unharmed. Tony brushes off Cap's concern and waves away the medics from SHIELD, blasting back to his workshop where he can peel his way out of the suit in private. The stockings are shredded just as he’d feared. The gloves are sweat stained and are also ruined. He frowns as he examines them, taking care to take off the pearls first.

He has some bruising in his chest where he'd been thrown around in the suit and the necklace had been pressed into his skin. He is examining the long sting for any nicks when Jarvis's alarmed voice comes over the intercom. It is too late and Captain America is already striding into his lab, no doubt ready to lecture Tony about avoiding medical. Steve freezes mid word, his eyes widening as he stares at Tony, standing there in ruined stockings, arm length satin gloves and boxers, a long string of pearls hanging from his fingers.

Tony blinks and opened his mouth to speak but no words come out. They can only stare at each other until Steve hissed a breath and steps right up into Tony’s space. His gaze is heated and it steals Tony’s breath as his blue eyes dilate until they are almost black. Steve raises his hand slowly and rubs his thumb against Tony’s bottom lip. It comes away scarlet and Tony absently remembers the make up.

With a burning look in he eyes, Steve brings his thumb up to his mouth and sucks the lip stain off with a swipe of his tongue. Tony moans at the sight, swallowing heavily. He sways into Steve’s warmth and large warm hands come to rest on his hips

Steve leans down, a hot breath against his cheek. "Show me."

Tony is forty six and is sitting at the white vanity placing the last touches on his scarlet lip stain. He glances over to the chaise lounge where Steve is sprawled in a pair of black tuxedo pants and a crisp white shirt rolled up at the sieves and unbuttoned sat the neck. He’s staring back at Tony the way that his father used to stare at his mother whenever she got dolled up. that hungry look that made Tony revel in the heat curling in his belly.

Next are the stockings, neatly clipped to a lace garter, sans panties as Tony loves the naughty feeling of being bare down there. So does Steve apparently. Next are the gloves, smooth and soft against his skin. Next comes the perfume and then he’s reaching into the silver box. The pearls are luminescent against his olive skin and he smiles, standing and walking to the closet for the vintage ivory dress he’d had shipped from discreet and very exclusive boutique in Milan.

Steve’s steps up behind him to help with the delicate zipper, his fingers brushing against Tony’s spine, making him shiver. Steve places a kiss against the back of his neck before manipulating the small hook and eye at the top. The swish of the material feels sensual against his skin and he twirls from side to side as Steve moves back to the lounge.

He steps into the shoes and spins in place, letting the skirt float up with the motion. A slit in the side reveals a flash of stockinged leg and he smirks as Steve shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He fingers the pearl clip on earnings and coyly approaches the lounge.

Steve spreads his leave wide so that Tony can stand between them. The cut of the dress makes Tony’s waist seem slimmer and Steve’s hands settle there before traveling down to slip though the high slit to run his hand over stockinged thighs. Warm palms reach up to cup Tony’s as cheeks and squeeze gently, wringing a moan from scarlet stained lips.

Steve pulls Tony down unto his lap, stocking covered thighs straddling tuxedo clad legs. Tony’s rock hard and leaking as he lifts the dress out of the way and grinds his groin into Steve’s straining erection. Large hands cup his ass and pull him closer as Tony claims Steve's mouth in a deep and filthy kiss, staining the other man's lips scarlet and smearing his own mouth. They both moan as Steve reaches around Tony to fumble with the zipper of the dress. Steve loves taking off the beautiful clothes almost as much as he loves watching Tony put them on. He also hates seeing them ruined by sex stains.

Nimble hands undo the dress and explore the expanse of Tony’s back as Steve’s tongue explores his mouth. He bends down to trail kisses down Tony’s neck and his newly exposed shoulder until the dress is puddled around Tony’s waist. They both carefully pull the dress off over Tony’s head and drape it over the curved back of the chaise lounge. Tony will make sure to hang it back up properly later.

Then pearls rattle between them as Tony rocks against Steve , squirming as slicked up, thick fingers brush against his hole. He clenches down with a shudder before relaxing into the gentle probing. Tony pulls Steve's tuxedo shirt open further, popping some buttons as Steve moans in protest. Tony isn't overly concerned, he can buy Steve another one just like it. A hundred others. He runs his hands all over Steve’s massive chest as a second finger joins the first, gloved fingers tweaking pebbled nipples. A third finger has Tony mewling, hip hips bucking as Steve rubs light circle into that one spot.

Finally, he gets to sink back unto that solid heat, the walls of his insides dragging deliciously against Steve’s length and girth. Tony gives a wanton moan as he bottoms out, arching his back into the intrusion, pushing back orgasm until he can catch his breath. He rolls his hips, grinning when Steve growls low and bucks up into him.

He digs his fingers into Steve's blond hair, messing up the neat style Steve still insists on using whenever they do this. He rocks his hips, setting a steady pace as Steve takes a firm hold of his hips and starts thrusting upwards. Tony hisses, arching his neck, Steve taking the opportunity to lick and kiss along his neck and jaw line.

Steve, with his freakish super strength, threads his arms below Tony's knees and stands, steadying Tony’s back with his hands so that Tony’s knees are hooked over Steve’s elbows and he’s spread open so wide. He can feel the cool of the mirror against his back and he arches with a cry as Steve begins to fuck into him with long smooth strokes. His gloved hands claw at Steve’s shoulders, the white satin looks perfect against Steve’s tanned skin.

Tony comes with a cry, come squirting against his own abs and the lace garter belt. His leg muscles bulge and flex under the stockings as Steve fucks him though the orgasm. He’s left panting as Steve seeks his own release, stiffening as he came deep within tony with a breathy groan.

They kiss lazily back on the chaise lounge and Steve watches as Tony kicks off the shoes and puts away the pearls. Tony pulls off the long gloves and tucks them back into the packaging, smiling as fingers pull at the lace garter belt.

"Leave this on?" Steve’s voice is sweet and husky against his neck as thick fingers probe gently at his leaking hole. Tony squirms and presses back against the intrusion, nodding. Turning in Steve's arms, Tony goes up on tip toes to kiss Steve deeply, yelping in surprise when Steve picks him up bodily and carries him into the bedroom, letting Jarvis shut the secret door behind them.


End file.
